


If I were a Bell

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Series: Guys and Bots [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bearded Steve Rogers, Bittersweet, Canon Divergent, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Porn, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War, Tony POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 21:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15871959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: Officially, Tony hasn't seen Steve since the Sokovia Accords were ratified. Unofficially, Steve is a sneaky bastard who keeps taking risks to see Tony whenever he wants.





	If I were a Bell

**Author's Note:**

> Previously in this fic series: Civil War played out differently due to Steve and Tony's being in a relationship. The Avengers split up, but Steve and Tony didn't come to blows.

It’s towards the end of the press conference when FRIDAY chirps unexpectedly in Tony’s ear. She doesn’t say any specific words; just a trill of notes that’d mean nothing to anyone else, and of which is Tony is expert enough to not give anything away in his facial expression.

The shades help, of course. So does the kid beaming up at him from his side – not that Tony can see Peter’s face through the mask, but he’s exuding a general beamingness that is unmistakable, and keeps Tony focused on the matter at hand.

“And that’s enough for today,” Tony says, a hand already up to shush the protests. “Just like dear ‘ol dad used to say: always leave ‘em wanting a little bit more, and no you can’t have leftovers.”

There’s appreciative titters in the crowd, though Christine – always in the front row – says, “Your father, really.” Tony ignores her, as does Pepper, who steps forward to announce that she’s sending out the digital press releases on Spider-man’s official affiliation with the Avengers.

The show’s over, but Peter seems reluctant to move, and only does so when Tony puts an arm around his shoulder and steers him away. Off the stage they go, through the doorway back to the private area, where Happy’s waiting with a cup of coffee that Tony accepts and takes a quick gulp out of.

“That went well,” Tony says.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, breathless and earnest in a way that Tony still can’t believe is real, and by fuck do the Avengers need some of this right now. “I can’t even begin to express how much I appreciate this chance and I won’t let you down, sir.”

“Technically, you already have,” Tony says.

“Oh, um, that doesn’t – really?” Peter flails a little and, remembering, removes the mask. “Oh, a joke. “

“Yeah, he’s not that funny,” Happy says flatly.

“I am if you want to keep your internship,” Tony says. Peter still looks conflicted, so Tony takes pity on the poor kid and says, “Lob the deal back at me.”

“I stay in school.” As Peter speaks, he straightens up to near attention, though he doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it. “I keep my ear to the ground and report any suspicious behavior and do not at all get involved in another major without telling you. Unless it’s an emergency.”

“Hmm?” Tony cups a hand over his ear. “What’s that last part?”

“New clause,” Peter says quietly. “I mean, I know I said I wouldn’t, but Toomes was—”

“Tony, come on,” Happy says.

“Fine, whatever,” Tony says, waving it off. “I help you keep your secret identity and you come up on the regular for training. Happy?”

“Yeah, of course!” Peter says.

“He means me,” Happy says, putting a hand on Peter’s arm to guide him away. “Let’s go debrief with Ms. Potts, okay?”

Tony vaguely registers Peter’s murmur of acknowledgement as he and Happy peel off to find Pepper. The kid will be fine; Pepper and Happy will see him back home to process and unwind. Meanwhile, Tony’s brain has switched tracks, and a short burst of code at a corner of his glasses confirms FRIDAY’s chirp of earlier.

It’s been an exciting week all around, culminating with an exciting day. The press conference was Pepper’s idea, to be part of an affirmation that the Avengers initiative continues, albeit in a form that’s different from what the world had gotten used to. It’s not ideal, but it’s a show of their moving forward, and further building of good faith under the Accords in its current form.

That’s just one angle of this project. There are other angles, which are being worked at by other people at other points all over the world, and Tony should probably check in on how that’s going.

Tony makes his way deeper into the Compound, past various levels of increasing security and decreasing activity, eventually arriving at the renovated personal quarters. It’s quiet here up on a good day, but right now it’s like the inside of a goddamned bank vault – Rhodey and Hill are away, Natasha’s downstairs – leaving it with a current occupancy of one.

At least, that’s what FRIDAY and the rest Compound’s security systems would report.

Tony pushes the door to his room open and lingers there for a moment. “I’m gonna have a talk with security,” he says. “How’d they let a bearded hobo break into my room.”

Steve, dressed in Captain America: Fugitive Edition regalia sans a stupid cap, looks up from where he’d been tapping away on his phone. “Aren’t _you_ security?”

“Yeah. Should have a talk with myself, then.”

“Gonna have to get in line,” Steve says. “I got here first.”

Steve smiles, small and lopsided, and puts his phone down. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, which Tony wants to call out as making this look way too much like a booty call, but that’s overridden by Tony’s immediate urge to blurt out, “No, seriously, what is that on your face.”

“You know I’ve been growing it out.” Steve rubs a thumb and forefinger down his chin. “You saw it on the last video call.”

“That was just a few weeks ago, how did it grow to _this_?” Tony can’t help the contortion of his face as he approaches step by cautious step, until he’s close enough to observe the individual hairs swallowing up Steve’s chin. “I don’t like it. Up top’s okay, but that – no.”

“No?”

“No,” Tony says firmly. “Rugburn.”

Steve stares. “Rugburn.” He tilts his head, the motion sending a stray long lock of flopping in front of one eye, and that – okay that sends an unexpected frisson down Tony’s spine. Tony does his best to keep his press conference face on, though, but he thinks it wavers when Steve’s eyes focus on Tony’s chin.

“Hah!” Tony exclaims. “You cannot compare this neatly-trimmed lawn with that bushwhack monstrosity. You’re gonna need a machete to deal with that.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s functional.”

“Functional for what? Staying incognito? You think you’re less noticeable when you have a small animal growing on your face?”

“Maybe people’ll think this small animal has rabies and give me a wide berth.”

“Hah.” Tony rolls his eyes, and pointedly ignores Steve’s taking his hands, pulling Tony forward until their knees are touching. “You know it’s bad when I have a laundry list of complaints and that one’s at the top.”

Steve just gazes up at him, smiling and patient as he settles his hands on the backs of Tony’s thighs. “What’s the rest?”

“Oh? How about the stupidity of your sneaking in here on the day when there’s literally two dozen journalists downstairs that would love to catch a glimpse of your ass?”

“That made it easier to sneak in, actually,” Steve says. “Plenty of trucks out there.”

“No!” Tony exclaims. “That’s not what we agreed!”

Steve lifts an eyebrow. “Are you actually mad, or is this foreplay? Because it’s been an eventful week for both of us.”

“See? You’ve been away so long you can’t even tell.”

There’s a beat where Steve seems to be considering it, and then he slides his hands up, cupping Tony’s ass. When Tony deepens his scowl, Steve adds, “Just trying my luck.”

“You are mistaken to assume I’m a sure thing.” Tony tucks his glasses into his jacket, which he shucks off and tosses at a corner. “Because we’re separated, broken up, divorce _a mensa et thoro_. That’s bad enough in itself, but whatever tiny, miniscule chance you had left just evaporated with your sporting a Robinson Crusoe.”

“Okay.” Steve yanks sharply, sending both of them flopping over onto the bed.

Tony yelps, laughs, and yelps some more as they roll around, grappling and grabbing at each other. Missing Steve is an ache as constant as the arc reactor that used to be in Tony’s chest – always there, always making itself known, but manageable in the day-to-day for the work that needs to be done. Yet right now, with Steve here with him, that ache blooms thick and hot and surprisingly sweet.

These past few years have made clear the purpose of Tony’s existence, and in many ways that’s been a blessing. But along with that is the underlying question: what will he put aside for the sake of that purpose? Distractions big and small – the parties, the hob-knobbing, the jet-setting for nothing – were easy enough to discard, but there’s this.

There’s Steve, who’s outside the Accords and on the arrest list of 65% of the countries on the planet. Tony knows a half-dozen ways he could muscle Steve back into game, and another half-dozen ways he could join Steve as a free agent, but neither will work in the long term, not without losing the reach or resources they’ll need. The system is flawed but there’s no ignoring it; they need to work at it, from both ends, until they knock it into a workable shape.

This means Tony on this side and Steve on his, with calls and clandestine visits in between to connect them. Sure, it’s a bummer, but as far as sacrifices go this is pretty low on the list of truly awful things the universe can throw at them. Tony is fine with paying this and he knows, without having to ask, that Steve feels the same.

“Super soldier bristles.” Tony props himself up on Steve’s chest and squints down at him. Steve’s only conceded position because he wants to be, but that’s okay. “Gotta be even more damaging than normal bristles.”

“So you’re being a scientist at me now?”

“Sshh.” Tony carefully sets a hand on Steve’s chin, the curve between his forefinger and thumb looped around Steve’s mouth. Ostensibly, Tony is studying the beard, but he’s also studying the rest of Steve – his eyes, the lines of his face, the give of his body underneath.

The serum masks most things, but there’s more wear ‘n tear that goes on in a person than what’s on top. It’s worse still with Steve, who probably (definitely) thinks it’s his duty to not worry Tony with the finer details of his life on the lam. Tony knows Steve can take care of himself, and that the other Avengers watch out for each other when they can, but Tony’s a hands-on kinda guy. It’s been a couple of months since the last time they got to touch each other, and there’s only so much info that can be gleaned remotely, so a refresher is vital.

“You know,” Steve says, radiating nothing but contentment, “we can’t actually be divorced, because we were never married.”

“Thank God for that,” Tony says, “or half my assets might’ve been seized when you skedaddled. I have enough paperwork to deal with on the regular.”

Steve is a goddamned fugitive of the law and should not look so freaking happy. His grin is slow and bright, and takes Tony’s breath away. “That the only reason?”

“Nope, not doing this right now!” Tony presses his hand down, forcing Steve’s beard as flat as he can, and kisses him.

Steve makes a small, shocked sound at the press of their mouths, which is kinda stupid because he’s a tactical genius and would’ve seen this coming the moment he decided to make a surprise visit to the Compound. But he makes the sound anyway, a winded _oh_ as Tony coaxes Steve’s mouth open, re-familiarizing himself with the shape and taste of it.

Up close, Steve smells suspiciously clean – he must’ve showered before coming. Steve doesn’t always tell Tony when he’s making a visit because opportunities can flip on a dime, and Tony would rather not have a promise at all if it meant that Steve doesn’t feel guilty if he has to break them. Tony only litters the field with chances, by traveling where he can and always letting Steve know where he is, but coming back to New York? Fucking hell.

Tony kisses Steve breathless – or as breathless as a super soldier can get – before pulling back and saying, “When I heard T’Challa was coming to town I thought you might try something. But _here_?”

Steve’s long hair looks great disheveled, and the effect is made worse by his knowing grin. “Just admit that you like it.”

“I’d rather say that I like the beard. No, you—” Tony ducks in quickly, taking a kiss that Steve tries and fails to chase, “—really need to work on the timing of your conjugal visits.”

“Yeah, because I’m happy to sit back when I hear you had to stop a weapons heist with only a high school kid for help.”

“A high school kid that can bench press my suit. I believe I mentioned that.”

“Right,” Steve says with a nod. “That makes it so much better.”

It’s mean to feel a surge of triumph at that, but it can’t be helped. Tony strokes a palm on Steve’s chest, soothing and gentle. “I said I was okay.”

“And _I’m_ okay,” Steve insists. “I know how not to get caught.”

“Your confidence never fails to astound.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Did you really just call this a conjugal visit? Because I’m not sure I like the implications—”

“Oh look!” Tony shifts his thigh against Steve, finding the hardening length of him. “That a shield in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“That does it.” Steve doesn’t hold back this time, his hands finding purchase on Tony’s waist to flip them over.

Tony gasps in surprise, and has only enough time to get his tie out of his face before Steve’s gotten Tony’s pants open and fished his cock out. That this is no longer a regular occurrence between them means that Tony’s almost relearning Steve all over again – how fast he moves, how he multitasks, how he swallows dick like a champ.

“Oh, okay,” Tony breathes.

Steve moves with single-minded purpose, lips tight around Tony’s shaft and sliding down. Tony shudders at the slick heat around him, and gasps when the head of his cock bumps the back of Steve’s mouth. Steve sucks around him in steady pulses – a mixture of lazy and controlled that has Tony’s toes curling.

There’s something new, though. When Tony reaches down on automatic impulse, his fingers find Steve’s grown-out locks, now long enough to thread through Tony’s fingers. Steve’s hair is soft and floppy in places, which makes Tony thing vaguely about the boy scout Steve seemed to be when they first met, though there’s no mistaking _this_ Steve for that one.

A light touch under Tony’s balls makes him exhale in surprise. “What?” He looks down, where Steve’s eyebrows are up, questioning. Oh, right. Multitasking.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Yeah, go for it.”

Steve’s finger, slick with lube from hell knows where, slides into Tony’s opening. This part is always shocking, because Tony doesn’t jerk off much when Steve’s away – he’s just too busy – but even when he does he just goes for his dick and that’s it. It’s just too much effort to do more, so that part of him stays neglected and dormant, until such time when Steve deigns to bless him with his presence.

So when Steve curls that finger inside Tony, it’s understandable that Tony gasps, whole body jerking, and clenches his hands in Steve’s hair.

Steve chokes. Tony blinks his eyes blearily, noting Steve’s determined struggle to hold on to his prize, even as he’s trying to clear his throat. Steve’s eyes are dark, unbelievably dark, and they pin Tony in place.

Tony swallows, and tightens his grip again. This time Steve groans, loud and rattling, and the reverberations travel up Tony’s shaft. Breathing shallowly through his mouth, Tony curls his fingers, drawing Steve’s hair taut, and pulls him down.

This takes a hell of a lot of concentration, but goddamn. Tony’s got a firm grip in Steve’s hair, and Steve’s just letting him move his head in small motions up and down on his cock, Steve’s lips pink and obscene around him. Tony’s enjoying himself but Steve’s damn near shaking with it, face almost angry as he tries to stay pliable for Tony’s fucking his mouth.

Even the beard feels good like this, the little points brushing against the sensitive skin inside Tony’s thighs. It should be uncomfortable – it _should_ be – but it just sharpens and mixes in with everything that’s going: Steve’s hot mouth on him, Steve’s finger inside him, Steve’s eyes as intense as they’ve ever been.

There’s a challenge in that stare, too. Tony grins and pulls Steve further in, right until Steve huffs through his nose stubbornly and swallows all the way down. Steve’s mouth is occupied but he’s grinning, Tony can feel it. The finger inside Tony mirrors the motion, pushing as deep as it’ll go and settling in.

Tony wants to come like this. He _could_ come like this and make Steve choke on it, but.

“Stop, stop.” Tony lets go and flattens his hands on the mattress. “I’m too close, I can’t.”

Steve slides off and politely puts Tony’s cock on his stomach. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Tony breathes a few times, in through his nose and out through his mouth. It occurs to him that he’s still in his dress shirt, tie and pants, albeit in an artfully debauched configuration. Steve’s enjoying it, though, which is nice. Feeling a little steadier, he pushes his pants down to his knees properly and rolls onto his stomach. “I’m sure.”

“All right, then.”

Tony closes his eyes, makes himself comfortable, and tries his best not to hump the bed. He expects Steve to take a while to strip, but nope, the mattress shifts while Steve approaches, and there’s just the clink of him opening his belt and pants.

Tony shudders, and shudders again when Steve rubs a hand soothingly on Tony’s lower back.

“I’m coming in,” Steve says.

“Today would be nice.” Tony sighs at the press of Steve’s cock at this opening, pausing for a moment before pushing in.

Steve moves slow and incremental, as always ignoring Tony’s canting of his hips up so he can take his time. It’s the best, sweet kind of pressure, coaxing Tony open half-inch by half-inch until Steve’s fully sheathed and is close enough to rest his bristly face on Tony’s thankfully-clothed shoulder blade.

“You do miss me, though, right?” Steve asks quietly.

“That’s the kind of question you ask _before_ you put your dick in me, Rogers.”

Steve laughs. “Fair enough.” He adjusts his position, his knees between Tony’s thighs and braced against the mattress. Elsewhere Steve’s hands find purchase on Tony’s waist, gripping firm as he rises up, ready to go to town.

“I still get annoyed when I wake up and you’re not there,” Tony blurts out. “I sleep with your shirts sometimes. All the time. I have FRIDAY play recordings of you in the lab when I work – it helps me focus, reminds me what I have.”

Steve goes still. Tony can’t see his face, but that’s probably a good thing.

“I’m supposed to destroy all records of our calls, but I can’t, because I’m weak – oh shit.” Tony gasps, because Steve has started moving, fucking him in earnest with strong, steady thrusts. Tony breathes with it, noises punching out of him every time Steve’s thighs meet Tony’s, and then it’s hard to think at all.

The dry spells in between make this intense. Though to be fair, sex almost always was intense even when they were living together, so maybe it’s just them. Or maybe it’s just Steve, who knows just how to touch Tony, reassuring him with his presence while simultaneously fucking him out of his mind. Tony tries to make it good for Steve, too – squeezing around Steve’s cock and garbling filthy nonsense about being stuffed full – but it’s hard to know how effective it is when he’s too busy riding the pleasure of it.

 _God_ , it’s ridiculous how Steve plays Tony’s body like an expert. All he’s gotta do is put his dick in and it’s like Tony’s never known anything else – he’s just meant to be fucked, to take every thrust, to whine and shove back so Steve can get deeper. Tony’s a fuse lit up from the inside, chasing that glory, while Steve grunts and makes noises that can only have come out through gritted teeth.

“Please, Steve, please, fuck.” Tony scratches at the sheets underneath him. “Right there, right there, that’s perfect, _yes_.”

Steve’s hands move from Tony’s waist downward, settling under his thighs and lifting him up. That changes the angle and forces Tony’s weight forward, allowing Steve bear down even harder between Tony’s legs and, yep, there’s that tactical genius thinking again.

Tony comes with a broken gasp, whole body jolting in surprise. He grabs at his cock quickly, getting a few pulls to draw it out as long as he can. Steve, for his part, is a gentleman and stays as deep inside Tony as he can be.

It’s good. Can’t complain.

Once Tony’s stopped shaking, Steve kisses the back of his neck – a light brush, and far too tender – before carefully setting Tony down. Tony’s still a little out of it but hums approvingly as Steve fucks him to his own completion. This part’s great, too.

Steve comes with a sharp cry, grinding deep and his body tight against Tony’s back. Tony murmurs his approval and brings one of Steve’s mildly sweaty hands up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles.

It’s quiet for a while afterward as they wait for their breathing to even out. Tony eventually jabs Steve with an elbow, so the other man rolls over and Tony can prop himself up to study him.

“You good?” Tony asks.

“Yeah.” Steve winces at Tony’s mild scowl, but then sets his jaw firmly. “It’s not always good, but it always gets better when I get to see you. I know it’s risky, but it’s worth it.”

Tony sighs. “Yeah, okay. I’m still a little mad, but I get it. Take off your shirt.” Steve gamely peels off his shirts, revealing good ‘ol American beefcake, and Tony nods in satisfaction. “With that beard, couldn’t be sure what else you’ve been up to.”

“What could I possibly have done to my chest?”

“I don’t know. Tattoos? I don’t pretend to know what they can pull off in Wakanda.”

“Right,” Steve says, laughing. “Shuri says hi.”

“Of course she does.”

“Bucky says hi, too.”

“Ugh, no.” Tony covers his face. “You just had to ruin the mood, didn’t you? Lift your arm.” Steve obliges, and Tony scoots under the raised arm, snuggling up against Steve’s chest. It’s warm there, even if Tony has to avoid Steve’s bristles from poking him in the eye.

“I’m glad you’re making friends,” Steve says.

“Peter isn’t a friend. He’s a highly intelligent pain in the ass, and you’re gonna love him.”

“No doubt.”

They’re going to have to talk about work eventually, along with other very interesting topics such as exactly how long Steve can stay for. Not to mention the part where Tony bailed on Pepper downstairs and will have to deal with that. But that’s later, dammit, because Tony’s determined to enjoy the moment and pet a mostly-naked Steve Rogers to his heart’s content.

“During the war,” Steve says quietly, “I used to watch the other guys write home to their sweethearts, and wondered what that was like. I had Peggy to think about, but we weren’t… It wasn’t like that. You understand, right?”

“Yep,” Tony says.

“So I was envious, I guess. That they had someone waiting for them like that. I wanted it, as selfish as that sounds.”

Tony waits, but Steve doesn’t seem to want to say more. He clears his throat. “So how’s it feel now that you have it?”

“Better _and_ worse than I expected,” Steve says.

“Aww.” Tony winces and draws back so he can look Steve in the eye. Steve doesn’t seem offended, well-aware that neither of them deals well with being maudlin. “Didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Steve says.

Tony swallows – an apology’s bubbling up in his chest, but that would less that helpful. The situation is what it is, and they’ve had long, frustrating missions before; this one’s just taking a little longer than most. But it’s doable. They're working at it together, and they have checkpoints, milestones, a growing set of allies, and it’s only a matter of time before the poor functionality of the Accords makes it collapse under its own weight. With a little push from either side, of course.

“ _Fine_ ,” Tony sighs. “The beard’s kinda sexy.”

Steve smiles slowly. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a shame,” Steve says, rubbing his chin. “It’s uncomfortable, I was thinking of shaving it.”

Tony gasps and rises up on a roar of indignant rage, only for Steve to pull him into a hug, mashing Tony’s face against his chest. Tony hisses, smacks at Steve’s sides weakly, and does not at all enjoy Steve’s rubbing the beard on the top of Tony’s head.

“You asshole,” Tony grumbles, voice muffled. “You’re the worst.”

“I love you, too, Tony.”

**Author's Note:**

> [This fic's tumblr post!](http://no-gorms.tumblr.com/post/177675327931/mcu-fic)


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